Gravis Sarcina
by Ann Kathrynn
Summary: She reached out, as if to draw him to her. “I’m fine. Look, I’m –” but his eyes had come to rest on a stretch of skin where her shirt had ridden up. She was covered in bruises. A GabrielxAnna fic Complete
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's. Not. Mine.

Wow, has it been a while since I've posted (or even written) anything...but this one's been gathering dust on my computer for a good couple of months now, so I figured with midterms over now would be a good time to brush it off. I don't see this particular piece ending as a one-shot, but then again, I don't have any real inspiration right now for a following chapter. Either way, it's time this bad boy got off my hard-drive and posted on here.

A quick aside, however; I've had three exams within the last twenty-four hours, and I'm running a little low on energy, so please excuse any spelling mistakes, etc. I did proof-read it, but I tend to gloss over things quite easily. Furthermore, if the Latin is wrong, I apologize; I'm relying on a friend who's grasp of the language has become a bit rusty. Translated, _Gravis sarcina_ should mean "Heavy Burden".

* * *

"Come riding with me?" 

His request was simple, if not his implications. Although she had not known him long, something wise within her knew that Van Helsing was hardly the kind of man who afforded himself simple leisures. And it was in examining this thought that she came to the realization that his request was not one of only a ride.

Van Helsing, seeing the flicker of recognition spark within her eyes, hastily added, "Your horses grow restless." He offered her a quiet sort of smile and Anna, for her part, knew he would not allow himself to say anything more.

"They are not the only ones" she laughed softly, propping herself to a sitting position under the sheets of her bed. A fleeting smile passed over her lips despite the sharp wrench of pain in her chest, a response to her sudden movement; when Carl had ordered her to a full month of bed rest, he was adamant his regimen be carried out properly, and although her sore ribs now were still causing discomfort, muscles, aching from disuse, were crying out to forgo the last two weeks of rest under the friar's watchful care.

"Anna" Van Helsing spoke, drawing the princess out of her reverie, "Carl has gone to town, and I hardly expect him to return shortly given his intended company." His grin returned, filled with a dangerous charm and the promise of mischief, and Anna felt the muscles in her stomach simultaneously tighten and loosen. It was a strange feeling, she decided as Van Helsing abandoned his place in her doorframe to perch with a gentleness she hadn't expected from him on the edge of her bed, having both her family avenged and Van Helsing smile at her like that.

Van Helsing sat facing her, a hand sliding smoothly over the top of her sheets until it encased her own, before trailing up her naked arm. She ignored the fluttering sensation his fingers on her skin caused her as best she could, although she could not keep completely the husky timber he elicited from her voice. "Has he gone to see Tom, then?" She smiled, knowing that the lovable friar had found a fast friend in the local blacksmith. Tom was a sturdy man, thickly built, easily dwarfing Carl, but they both shared a certain fondness for what others viewed as 'unstable inventions'.

His fingers had discarded their trail along her arm, now playfully curling a lock of her dark hair. Van Helsing, however, spoke casually, as if he did not realize the lack of focus his deft fingers tangled around an errant curl caused the princess: "Oh, no, not today. His wife is still quite upset over their last…_breakthrough_." Van Helsing and Anna shared a small smile, each remembering the damage the pair's latest invention had caused Tom's kitchen, and the ear-lasing his wife had seen fit to give them both. "No, today Carl wished to visit his pretty barmaid again, and who was I to keep him? Naturally I assured him I would watch over you in his stead." His voice grew softer as he finished, and Anna couldn't help but lean into the monster slayer's touch even as she grimaced ruefully:

"That man has the eyes of a hawk. He sees me the moment I attempt to set foot out of this bed."

The plush mattress beneath them groaned as Van Helsing shifted, brushing his lips against the smooth skin of her collarbone, ad she could feel him form his next words, whispers against her skin, as he spoke them. "He is not here now, Anna." His eyes locked with hers. "You feel well?"

Anna closed her eyes as he pulled away, relishing the last traces of his breath on her skin, before opening them to see Van Helsing look as imploringly at her as she believed possible. She found herself forming the words before she could help it, "Well enough, I suppose…"

"Then come riding with me" he smiled, and whatever she was about to say trailed off, disappearing into the air between them. His lips returned to her neck, feathering light kisses along her jaw, and Anna fumbled with the covers, pushing them down around her to allow Van Helsing to slide closer. He complied easily, slipping one hand behind her to skim faintly along her back and Anna allowed herself a moment to marvel at how gentle of a man Van Helsing was before her mind drifted off, imagining other ways she and Van Helsing might better spend an afternoon without the constant surveillance of a certain friar. A trip to the stables did not seem to hold the appeal it had only moments before.

Van Helsing, she noted, seemed to be thinking along similar lines; his hands began creeping under the hem of her simple night-shirt, slitting delicately over sensitive skin and the clean, plain linen of the bandages still wrapped around her torso. He faltered for a moment upon feeling the fabric, but she refused to allow him to dwell on it, dipping her head to seize his lips in a hungry kiss. He did not hesitate to return the ardor she showed him, and very quickly, she noticed, he resumed his gentle ministrations.

His hands traveled further, reaching around to graze the small of her back, and Anna let out a breathless gasp, melting into his touch. Van Helsing, however, misinterpreted the sudden noise, and, fearing he had hurt the gypsy princess in some way, immediately pulled away from her, concern marring his features.

She reached out, as if to draw him to her; "I'm fine. Look, I'm –" but his eyes had come to rest on a stretch of skin where her shirt had ridden up. She was covered in bruises.

His hand moved to lift the fabric of her shirt higher, to better see the damage he had inflicted upon her, but she quickly swatted his hand away, and although the gesture held no malice, Van Helsing suddenly found himself struggling to keep his temper from flaring.

"Let me see, Anna" he said, his voice distinctly serious.

She refused him, eyes boring into his. "No." Her tone was as stern and unwavering as his.

"I did that to you." His hand reached out once more, cautiously, but Anna caught it with her own quickly, slim fingers pressing into the back of his hand.

"It matters not."

"I did that to you," he repeated stonily, his anger beginning to emerge as he tore his hand from her grip, ignoring the look of hurt that came unbidden to her face, "and I will see what I have done." His mouth was set in a grim line, his feature seeming harder, sharper, than they had been only minutes earlier. His eyes were narrowed with a furious determination, although Anna noticed also the bags under them. She realized with a start that he hadn't been sleeping well, troubled as he was by the idea he'd hurt her.

Still, she knew, seeing what terrible strength he'd crushed her with as the wolf would do little to alleviate him of that guilt. Viewing the marks would only cement for him the fact that he had, knowingly of not, caused them. Decision made, Anna spoke, hoping to distract him as she slowly lowered her shirt to cover the skin, "You haven't the right."

But he would not be dissuaded. "Haven't I?" he asked callously, and this time it was his hand that closed over her, none-too-gently, tugging the fabric out of her grasp. She waited for him to release her hands, unspeaking, shocked when instead he lifted her shirt further, stopping just before the point of indecency, carefully peeling away the bandages Carl had so meticulously applied. "Though the skin is yours the marks you carry are mine," he spoke as he worked, tightening his grip on her, "and I have _every_ right to see them." His voice was harsh, bordering on a cruelty Anna hadn't know him to possess.

The last strip of linen came away then, and an unreadable expression came on to Van Helsing's face as he saw what he'd done. Her skin was mottled with vicious bruises, black and purple and appearing as fresh as the day she'd received them. A series of thick gashes ran diagonally across the length of her abdomen; the ragged parallel lines tearing into her skin were just now beginning to heal properly. He traced one, from start to finish, his finger ghosting along the wound. So involved in the realization that it was by his own hands, _claws_, she had suffered such wounds, Van Helsing did not hear her sharp intake of breath.

"Enough!" she cried, prying her hand from his, hastily pushing them away. Van Helsing met her gaze, startled by her sudden outburst. Carefully, she lowered the shirt over her injuries, before speaking. "Van Helsing… _Gabriel,_" she began, tentative and unsure how to go on, "I do not blame you for this."

He stood abruptly, eyes colder than she'd ever seen them. "And yet the blame rests squarely upon my shoulders."

Painstakingly, Anna rose to a kneeling position on the mattress, wincing as her injuries protested, so she was level with the monster slayer. He made no move to help her, although sorrow was clearly evident behind the forced emptiness of his expression. She placed her hands on the front of his chest, willing him to cease thinking on the events of that night. Anna knew he felt she might have died by his own actions (they both knew she very nearly had); that looking at her now he would see only what he might have lost. Why wouldn't he fight that? For some reason he refused to let her serve as anything but a reminder of his actions. He could not see past his guilt, now that he'd seen what he'd done.

"I'm here" she whispered, drawing closer to him. "It's okay, I'm still here."

And Van Helsing looked her straight in the eye, his voice strained and weary, and said, "That's not enough."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

(See previous chapter for disclaimer)

Wow. Just wow. It's been quite a while since I first posted, and I'm almost embarrassed to upload the second half after so much time. Real life, unfortunately, reared its ugly head, and coupled with my inability to sit down and write something that sounds right whenever I want to made for finishing this story seem downright impossible. But I finally got my act together and finished, so thank you everyone for the kind reviews, and if you're still out there, here's the final chapter without any further ado!

(Ok, so some further ado: Please forgive any spelling or gramatical errors. It's pretty late where I am right now, and after this is posted I'm sleeping for a good long time. And as always, please review if you're so inclined!)

* * *

"I thought I might find you here."

Anna's tone betrayed the carefully contrived look of detached amusement on her face; and even though the sullen monster hunter was nearly halfway through an old bottle of strong whiskey he'd found behind her bar, he was still able to hear the hurt and anger in her tone. He spared her one glance, gripping the thick glass tumbler tightly, before downing what little was left of his drink, reaching for the bottle to top it off once again. When he spoke his voice was rough with both grief and alcohol. "You shouldn't be out of bed, Anna."

"Who was it that wanted to go riding?" she demanded hotly, remaining in the doorway, bracing herself against the thick wooden beam for support. Her side gave a painful twinge –she had hastily rewrapped the bandages as best she could around her wound, but her hands were more skilled with a sword than thin strips of linen. The skin around her gashes was being rubbed raw- but she refused to show her discomfort to Van Helsing. The man was being nothing short of infuriating, and it would be hard enough to talk sense into him, she knew, without a constant reminder of how painful he had made it for her to stand.

His broad shoulders slumped almost unnoticeably at her retort, yet he said nothing and kept his back to her. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"What harm will come from at least looking at me?" Her question did not garner her so much as another shrug from the man at the bar, and so, gritting her teeth against the pain that was sure to come, Anna slowly released her hold on the edge of the doorway, making her way across the large room. Against her best efforts, she let out a hiss of breath as her side throbbed, wobbling on her own feet, unsteady from weeks of bed rest. Strong arms caught her securely around the middle, mindful of her wounds, just as she had been about to fall.

"Carl will kill you if he finds you've been up" was all he said when she looked at him, but there wasn't even a ghost of a smile on his lips.

She pursed her lips seriously, noticing that, for the moment at least, his arms still encircled her waist. "Perhaps the benefits outweigh the risks."

His response was immediate; his hands fell from where they'd been resting on her waist, a comforting weight, and he took a step away from her, allowing her to stand on her own.

She sighed, before reaching out to clutch the crook of his elbow. "Help me to a seat" she asked, resignation clear in her tone. To his credit, Van Helsing did not argue with her, instead drawing her ever so slightly closer to him, his free arm circling around her back. She felt the familiar weight of one broad palm flat against the small of her back, guiding her onto one of the stools lining the bar counter. Her heart fluttered at the contact, hoping it to be a sign that Van Helsing realized how foolish he had been earlier.

One look at him, the lines of his face dark with a layer of stubble, eyes brooding and bleak, and she knew that it wasn't, but she could still feel the heat where his palm had rested.

Once he was sure that she was situated securely on the barstool, he took his place next to her, resting his arms heavily on the counter before him, large hands wrapping around his glass. He drank deeply, and when he was done only the thinnest layer of the dark amber liquid lined the bottom of his glass. Anna watched the ease with which he let the drink slide down his throat, silently wondering how long he had been at this. Her hand crept over the counter to rest on top of his, and his whole body tensed at her touch.

"Gabriel, please…you were not yourself" she implored, her fingers tickling the sides of his palm, curling and uncurling over his skin in soft motions. "I know this."

He turned to look at her, giving no indication he noticed her hand moving over his. He exhaled loudly, and his whole body seemed to slump as the air rushed out of him. He made as if to speak, before reconsidering, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand Anna had not yet claimed. Finally, painstakingly, he looked at her, wordlessly begging her to understand even as he spoke. "I was something close enough, Anna. Something…_dangerous_, even beneath the beast. And I feel it now when I look upon you." He shook his head slowly. "It kills me to see you in pain. Twice over to know that I am capable of causing it even now."

"It was not you, Gabriel."

"Goddamnit, Anna!" He almost snarled at her then –certainly it was the closest he had ever come– and had she any time to fully examine them, Anna would have sworn she'd seen a glint of amber flash in Van Helsing's dark eyes. His face surely looked bestial in that moment, like that of the wolf; lips drawn back and brow drawn down in anger. "How can I make it so you understand? I _was_ the wolf! It is because of me you are confined to your bed, because of me you nearly…"

"Died?" She added with a sharp bark, a spark of anger now invading her as well. "I assure you I have been flirting with Death for many years now, Mr. Van Helsing. That night would have been no different."

"IT WOULD HAVE BEEN AT MY HAND!" he nearly roared, slamming his hands down violently on the top of the counter. The bottle of whiskey, forgotten between the two of them, toppled before falling completely, and dripped down the sides. The stench of alcohol was suddenly thick in the air, and Anna, already light-headed from venturing so far from her room, closed her eyes, forcibly pushing away a sudden spell of dizziness. The last thing Van Helsing needed to see right now was evidence of his attack on her.

But of course, the monster hunter didn't miss the sudden pained expression crossing the princess' face, and as aggressive as he had been a moment before, his voice was now just as concerned. He stood from his seat urgently, cupping her face with one hand, the other hovering near her back in ready support. "Anna…forgive me. I should not have spoken to you so." She dismissed him, weakly raising one hand as if to wave him off, before resting it on his torso, only to be followed by her forehead as she buried her face against him. Hesitantly, as though unsure of his own actions, he lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on top of her tousled curls, and continued, his voice almost reverent. "It would have been at my hand, Anna, and I could never have forgiven myself for harming you."

She remained silent, breathing in the scent of his thick woolen shirt, of the almost sour whiskey he'd drank, finding the dizziness passing. Anna felt a shudder go through the man holding her; his arms had snaked around her waist once more, holding her close to him, and the movement stirred her against his chest. She twisted her head to look up at him, left speechless when she saw his eyes shine with what she would have sworn were unshed tears. Her eyes bore into his questioningly. Seeing the fierce monster hunter like this was unsettling. He watched her solemnly, and with a striking clarity Anna knew that his next words were the most serious he'd ever uttered.

"I don't know how," he began, voice soft and serious and full of something that sounded sinisterly similar to love, and Anna let her hands trail softly up to the base of his neck, stroking and pressing fingertips gently against his skin, encouraging him to continue, "But somehow, since the moment I first laid eyes upon you, you've become the most important thing in my God-forsaken life" –her hands stilled, faltering– "And I would die were I to lose you." He paused. "Anna, I almost made that happen."

Her brow furrowed, lips forming a silent 'oh' as she leaned back slightly to appraise him. Her hand rose, as if to stroke his cheek. What she did instead was something he hadn't been expecting. She slapped him across the face.

"That was for thinking you failed me" she said, and even though his cheek stung he knew her to be capable of much worse and took that, at least, as a good sign.

And before he could get in so much as a breath he felt her hands reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and tugging him forcefully to her, before her lips came crashing down on his. The kiss was fueled with passion, her hands roaming up and down his arms, pressing him closer and closer while Van Helsing spun her stool, swiftly trapping her between him and the bar. She tugged at his bottom lip playfully before pulling away, slightly breathless and fully satisfied. His gaze was smoldering, never leaving her lips, and so she leaned in, kissing him softly again. "That was to show you did not."

Van Helsing's very features seemed to brighten, his hands moving to rest on either side of her legs, gripping the seat of the stool loosely. She moved to kiss him once more, eagerly reaching up for him, but at the last second he turned his head, her lips landing instead on the edge of his jaw. She looked at him, question evident in her eyes, and he bowed his head. "You must know, Anna. I feel as though the beast is in me still. It had me then, and wants me still." His voice was laced with regret, she recognized, but not the same conviction it had held earlier in her room. She smiled brazenly.

"If the wolf had you then," she spoke, kissing his jaw again softly, languidly, making a trail from below his ear to the corner of his mouth, "Why can I not have you now?"

He kissed her then with all he had, gathering her up in his arms as their mouths fused together with a heat almost blinding, and Anna's very breath was stolen from her, leaving her panting softly when Van Helsing finally pulled away.

"You have all of me now" he breathed, and Anna laughed and twined her arms around his neck, her smile bright and knowing.

"I think it's time you returned me to my room, Mr. Van Helsing."

Van Helsing was inclined to agree.

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End file.
